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Authors: Terry Fallis

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BOOK: The High Road
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“And professor, I will never forget what you did for me when Ramsay Rumplun broke into your headquarters. I hope you know his actions were not sanctioned, and I don’t condone them for an instant.”

“As I told you then, we kept it quiet not as a favour to you, but to protect the voters’ tenuous and fragile respect for democracy.”

“One final word of warning, if I may,” Fox said. “Beware of Bradley Stanton. He’s got a hate on for you that is seriously intense.”

“Aye, I know he’s none too pleased with us right now.”

My curiosity prevailed, again.

“I wasn’t aware that the animosity between us was public knowledge.”

“It probably isn’t, Mr. Addison. But my contacts on the Hill are still solid, and I’d be worried if I were you,” Fox explained. “You’ve made a powerful enemy.”

“All in a good cause, mind you,” Angus concluded, smiling.

After another ten minutes of small talk, Emerson Fox took his leave.

“Well, that was illuminating” was all Angus said, before promptly forking my queen with one of his knights. I was done, again.

We waited until the last minute, and finally, Angus and I piled into his Camry and headed out. We found her where she spent most every afternoon, by the picture windows overlooking the river. As usual, she was staring intently out the window at the shoreline below. We caught the dying scent of lunch clashing with the emerging aroma of dinner. It was 2:30 p.m. We hadn’t called but Muriel was touched that we’d stopped by on such an important day.

“You shouldn’t be here right now, you should be getting ready for the big speech,” Muriel scolded. “I’m crossing every appendage I have but I think you’ve done all you can.”

“Aye, ’Tis out of our hands now. I pray the Prime Minister astounds us with his courage and judgment, but I’ll not be holdin’ my breath.”

Muriel returned her gaze to the river bank.

“Now, have a look out here, you two,” directed Muriel as she pointed with a shaky finger. “I’ve been watching that marten by the shore gather bread the kitchen folk have been tossing out the back door. He snatches the pieces and then disappears underground. Now I’m no expert, but I think he’s still supposed to be hibernating for a while longer. His routine has been upset by the smells wafting out the kitchen door.”

We watched the marten’s work for a time as it scurried back and forth. We could see two kitchen staff watching from the back door.

“But he looks healthy enough,” I commented.

“Well of course, he’s being fed with scraps from our meals. But it’s not the accepted order of the earth. It’s not how it’s supposed to be,” complained Muriel. “We’re upsetting the balance, aren’t we?”

Angus stood behind her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Aye, it may upset a time-honoured balance, but if you do it right, a new equilibrium can be found.”

Then we were back in the car and on the road for Ottawa. We left the radio off and my cellphone too, and drove in relative silence. We pulled in at 3:45 with a quarter of an hour to spare. Perfect.

The Commissionaires nodded almost reverentially as we walked the main corridor in Centre Block and headed for the House. In the chamber, Angus stopped on the green carpet just inside the arch, bowed to the Throne, then climbed the tiers to his seat. I darted up the stone stairs, to the Members Gallery. A depression was worn into each step by nearly a century of political feet. I snagged the final seat along the front row of the balcony overlooking the House of Commons. My fellow political staffers all fell quiet when I sat down. I didn’t care. I nodded to those I knew. I waited and fidgeted. I looked down to find Angus in his seat. He too waited and fidgeted. Thoughtlessly, I was stretching an elastic band I’d found on the floor under my feet. When it shot off my extended index finger into space, I was surprised at the graceful arc it cut in the air above the floor of the House of Commons. I leaned over the rail to follow its trajectory. Its gentle descent was very neatly arrested as it looped around the elephantine ear of a Tory backbencher from Manitoba. He lifted the rubber band off his ear, turning his eyes upwards to the gallery railing. He saw me carefully scrutinizing every inch
of the ornate ceiling of the chamber. When an appropriate cooling-off period had elapsed, I looked over at the other Liberal assistants next to me. Yes, they had obviously seen the whole thing and were still staring at me.

At 3:55 p.m. Emile Coulombe was still not in his seat although the small lectern that Finance Ministers usually use when reading their Budgets sat on his desk at the ready. At 4:00 p.m. the recently elected Speaker entered the House with a sombre Prime Minister. They both took their places and the Speaker called for two pages. He pointed to the vacant seat of the Finance Minister and the pages walked there. I looked down at Angus, who’d been sitting up as high as he could to see this unfolding scene. Then he was smiling and looking up at me. It took me a moment longer to grasp but the penny then dropped and all was made clear.

The two pages picked up the special lectern and carried it to the Prime Minister’s seat, placing it gently on the small parliamentary desk. The Prime Minister, who looked tired, nodded to the pages. There was an unmistakable tittering among the MPs and the press gallery. I heard a collective intake of breath from my colleagues beside me. Angus was beaming now.

The Speaker rose. “The Right Honourable Prime Minister.”

We had won. Angus had won. Again. The Prime Minister rose.

“Mr. Speaker, before I read the formal Budget speech, let me begin by announcing the resignation this morning of the Minister of Finance. In the face of an increasingly complex and declining economic situation, and in light of the findings and recommendations of the Honourable Member for Cumberland-Prescott respecting the recent collapse of the Alexandra Bridge, the Finance Minister felt he simply could not continue in his role. I agreed. In his stead, I am presenting the Budget. And let there be no misunderstanding. I present this Budget myself, as Prime Minister, as a symbol of this government’s solemn commitment to enact these measures, in the national interest.

“Notwithstanding our campaign pledges, since election day, our situation has changed. A bridge has collapsed into the river
and, along with it, any pretence that either the Liberals or the Conservatives actually conquered the deficit. As the Honourable Member for Cumberland-Prescott said to me, ‘We are not rid of the deficit, we just hid the deficit.’ Mr. Speaker, and through you to my honourable colleagues, you can now find part of our deficit lying at the bottom of the Ottawa River in the twisted wreckage of the Alexandra Bridge. That will not be the legacy of this government.

“The recommendations in the McLintock Report released yesterday are included in the Budget. We are not proceeding at this time with the tax cuts to corporations and individuals. We simply cannot afford it right now. We expect to be able to introduce these promised tax cuts within the mandate of this government, but that will depend on the state of our infrastructure and the state of our economy. Had the Alexandra Bridge not fallen, the Finance Minister I appointed nearly two weeks ago would be presenting a different Budget today. But the government of the day must deal with the issues of the day. And that’s just what we’re doing.”

He then proceeded to read the federal Budget to as quiet a House of Commons as I’ve ever heard. It took forty-eight minutes to get through it. There were some heckles but the decorum in the House lasted until the speech was nearly finished.

I’ve never been prouder of my Prime Minister. The allocations in the Budget for infrastructure renewal were slightly lower than we’d recommended. But then again, we’d recommended slightly higher numbers than we needed. Angus wasn’t happy about our slight subterfuge, but in the end I convinced him, and we were both glad. The infrastructure investment announced in the Budget would suffice.

It was out of character for the PM to be so bold, so direct. He was a charter adherent to the try-to-please-everybody school of politics. I had no doubt his dealings with Angus had inspired this new approach. I looked down behind the MPs and saw Bradley Stanton through the curtains in the Members’
lobby. He was looking directly at me. He pointed to me, then cocked his finger to the side of his head and fired with his thumb, before disappearing from view. I think he may finally have lost it.

After the PM sat down for the mandatory standing ovation from his caucus, I watched Angus haul himself to his feet to join in the applause. Then the PM did something I’d never seen in the House of Commons. While the ovation rolled on, he stood up, walked down to the other end of the House, turned, and climbed to the upper-most tier of seats, where Angus still stood clapping amid a sea of cheering Liberal backbenchers. Angus looked puzzled when the PM stopped in front of him and shook his hand while clasping his shoulder. He held his grip long enough to satisfy the cameras and make Angus distinctly uncomfortable. He then whispered in Angus’s ear before returning to his seat on the front benches. Several giddy MPs around Angus stepped forward to shake his hand and cheer. Angus still looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else, anywhere else.

The rest of the proceedings passed in a blur. Of course, all the networks had set up mini-studios in the lobby of the House of Commons for post-Budget reaction. The Prime Minister gave brief interviews to all the networks and then slipped up to his office. Angus tried to avoid the cameras but was unsuccessful. We were seized upon by roving producers, and several live television interviews were given. He was calm, articulate, and very gracious in what was a clear victory for him and a devastating defeat for Emile Coulombe. He praised the Prime Minister for his courage and vision and appealed to Canadians to reflect on the difficult decisions the PM had made. At one point, one reporter asked Angus what he thought of the Finance Minister’s resignation.

“Emile Coulombe is obviously a principled politician and he has made a principled decision. We need more women and men like him in public service.”

Nice.

While Angus was doing interviews, curiosity drove me to the outskirts of the scrums surrounding the Tory and NDP leaders. Predictably, the Tories were having none of it. They would vote against this Budget because of the removal of the tax cuts. Politically, they really had no choice. That left the future of the minority Liberal government in the hands of the NDP. Never a great position to be in. I huddled closer to hear what the NDP Leader was saying.

“As you all know, we’ve never liked tax cuts and quite frankly, we’re glad they’re gone, at least for the time being. We can support the infrastructure investment as it will create jobs, mostly union jobs at that. I’m glad the Prime Minister has taken our advice on the need for spending on our roads, bridges, and ports. For these reasons, we’ll hold our nose and support the government on the Budget,” declared the NDP Leader.

Crisis number one averted.

We finished the round of interviews, and I steered Angus towards the corridor back to our Centre Block office. He took my arm, reversed course, and led me up the stairs towards the Prime Minister’s office.

“He asked me to see him on our way out.”

“Really. Hmmmm, that’s interesting.”

Angus gave me a look but said nothing. I figured I knew what was coming but decided to keep my yap shut in case I was wrong. And if I were right, and if Angus hadn’t yet clued in, let it be a surprise.

Bradley Stanton was nowhere in sight as we passed the RCMP guard at the door and entered the PMO.

“You can both go right in. The Prime Minister is expecting you.”

“Thanks, Gloria,” I said as we opened the door and entered.

The PM was sitting near the fireplace. The flames crackled and looped around the logs. He stood up immediately and offered us the two chairs across from him.

“Gentlemen, welcome,” he boomed, with arms outstretched.

He did not look like a national leader with the weight of the
world on his shoulders. He looked as if he’d been somehow liberated, released from some unseen shackles. We all sat down. I positioned myself a little off to the side. This was really not my meeting.

“Angus, ever since you arrived on the Hill, you have been a veritable force of nature. It’s been an impressive display.”

“I know I’ve not always made your job easy, Prime Minister, but I’m too old to change, even if I had a mind to,” Angus replied.

“Not always made my job easy? You’ve been a painful thorn in my side for the entire time. But upon reflection, I’ve come to realize that the gods of politics did not send you to test and try me as I first thought. Rather, I now believe that you were sent, in a way, to guide me. After this realization, the thorn has become decidedly less painful.

“Enough analysis. Let me get directly to the point. Despite our differences, I’ve been very impressed with what you’ve achieved and how you’ve gone about it in the relatively short time that you’ve been here. Your conviction and strong will have been a personal inspiration to me while occasionally making my leadership complicated and difficult. For instance, I spent most of last night reviewing focus group results that told me that half of Canadians would favour your recommendations at the expense of our damn tax cuts, and half would oppose them. Politicians don’t much like fifty-fifty splits.”

“Yet still you sacrificed your Finance Minister and delayed the tax cuts. Why?” asked Angus.

“In the silence and dark of night, while the city slept, I simply asked myself the one question that seems to have guided your foray into public life. ‘What is right for the country?’ It won’t always be so easy to answer that question, but in this case, it was quite straightforward, as you know,” explained the Prime Minister.

“Aye, the course was clear, sir. I commend your decision,” replied Angus.

I stole a glance at Angus. He looked as serene as I’d ever seen him. He seemed … content.

“So Angus, to get to the real pressing matter at hand, Coulombe is gone. I’m sorry not to have his counsel, but not that sorry. So I’ll be asking Aline Rioux to take over in Finance. But when you make one move, the dominos start to fall and you end up having to reshuffle the whole deck to preserve balance around the Cabinet table,” the PM observed. “Angus, it seems I’m still left with one empty chair when the music stops.”

BOOK: The High Road
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